That Which Binds Us
by s0laine
Summary: Thrust into a world where she does not belong, Hermione has to adapt to a life of a Malfoy matriarch's ward. But then, magic sparks a turn of events that lead her to a whirlwind of pleasure and power. AU. Alpha/Omega Dynamics. Possibly OOC due to certain circumstances.
1. Taken

Welcome to another story that came out of nowhere and is probably totally unnecessary (but I wrote it anyway). What can I say? I'm a total trash for alpha/omega dynamics. Alpha and beta love to the wonderful LaBelladoneX and coyg-81! Thank you for making this fic readable and for listening to my silly ideas. Shoutout to the sweet LightofEvolution for helping me out on this story's summary.

Just to make it clear in case you guys get confused with the dates, Draco is older than Hermione in this fic.

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 **January 1980**

The information she had received led her to Hyde Park, disillusioned as she observed the couple in front of her. The squib with a name of no importance would be generously paid _—_ and obliviated—just to be sure.

Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, scrunched her nose up in distaste, eyeing the Muggle couple cooing at a baby in a pram. This trip had caused her to miss precious time with her family in favour of a park filled with filthy Muggles, but it was necessary.

 _For Draco_.

She would never have come here if not for that vital information given a couple of weeks ago. A squib from Knockturn Alley claimed to have seen a baby girl—an _omega_ —in the arms of a Muggle woman while traversing the London Underground. According to him, the Muggle couple lived in this neighbourhood - Knightsbridge, he'd said. The letter included an address with an unmoving photograph of a young Muggle woman in her twenties, head filled with riotous curls, eyes as brown as molten chocolate and seemingly wealthy—by Muggle standards. If she was the mother of this omega, the child would no doubt be a beauty when she came of age. It would not be a bad thing to aim to get the best, even from one with filthy roots.

Truth be told, she had little to no choice.

Omegas were a rare find in the Muggle world, more so in the wizarding one. They were prized and had often been the cause of conflicts in wizarding families, as some resorted to kidnapping and forced mating. They were _needed_ for an alpha to survive the first few ruts of their life. Both worlds followed the same societal hierarchy but only in the wizarding world did they carry such importance. Betas took up the majority of the population, with no physical markings and the freedom to live how they wanted. Alphas, with their elevated marking on their shoulders as an indicator, made up about five percent of the populace. They were dominant in nature and usually became prominent figures—natural born leaders, _if they survived._

That is where omegas came in.

Omegas, their elevated scent glands in their necks, just below their ears, complimented alpha dominance by their submissiveness and were observed to be the only remedy to the latter's survival. Before an alpha hit their twenties, they went through a cycle called a rut, where their bodies experienced biological alteration—or growth spurt—signifying maturity. It was accompanied by an insatiable need to fornicate and only omegas could appease the lust with their heats. It was rare to undergo the change and survive unscathed without an omega. Those who tried it with a beta—hoping to trick nature—did not live to tell the tale. When the fevered haze passed, they lost control of their mental faculties and, soon after, their body deteriorated into a husk of their former selves.

And that would never happen to Draco.

Her son, _her only baby_ would never suffer, not if she could help it.

Biding her time, she followed the couple as they plowed through other Muggles visiting the area, up to the carpark. The man inched closer to a sleek black vehicle and was taking out what looked to be keys from his pocket when—suddenly—a man in a mask appeared, waving a metal tool in front of him in a threatening manner. He was shouting, demanding the keys and a wallet. The omega's father refused, causing the masked man to hit him over the head with the metal object and roughly shove him aside. The mother holding the pram was crying—pleading—for him not to hurt them but her words fell on deaf ears. Unsure of what to do—and weary to use magic with Muggles on sight—Narcissa had her wand at the ready, prepared to do what was necessary to save the baby.

What happened next caught her off guard and would forever be ingrained in her memory.

The father—recovering from the attack—scrambled to take hold of the object. Noticing this, the attacker aimed the object at his head, pulling the trigger.

 _Blood._

There was blood _everywhere_.

Narcissa—unused to seeing such violent bloodshed—recoiled from where she stood, shaking and forgetting she was disillusioned.

She heard a deafening cry to her right. The mother—hysterical from what she had witnessed—released the pram and crouched down to where her husband lay, shouting for help.

This seemed to incense the man in the mask for he fired another shot. This time he aimed at the young mother which made Narcissa flinch even more.

Satisfied by his handiwork, the murderer bent down and grabbed the keys from the victim's lifeless hand, jumped into the vehicle and drove off.

Narcissa stood frozen for what felt like hours until she heard a shrill cry from the baby. This pushed her to move, remembering the purpose of her excursion. She picked up the wailing babe and took off to a nearby alley. Still trembling from what transpired, she checked her surroundings for Muggles before swishing her wand and apparating away from the scene of the crime.

She appeared a few seconds later in a lavishly decorated drawing room and slumped down on her favourite chaise longue. When she was able to draw her breath and gather her bearings, she called for a house-elf.

"Sobry!" Narcissa called.

With a pop, a small female house-elf appeared, dressed in a clean velvet pillowcase with the gold M embroidered on it.

"You calls, Mistress?"

"Have you prepared the room as I have instructed?"

"Yes, Mistress. I has it ready as you said. I has." The house-elf bowed, eager to show subservience.

"Take this baby and—" she stopped when she saw Lucius enter the drawing room. Her husband's eyebrow raised when he saw the little bundle in her arms.

She flicked her wand and the baby was swaddled in a thicker blanket.

"Take her and feed her, Sobry. I will tend to her later," Narcissa ordered.

"Yes, Mistress. I is doing that" The elf gathered the babe in her arms and disappeared with a pop.

Finally free of her burden, Narcissa met Lucius halfway and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

"I have finally found her, Lucius. We will never lose our precious boy."

She broke down in tears.


	2. Hermione

Again, this story would not be possible without help from the wonderful LaBelladoneX and coyg-81. Thanks ladies, for sticking with me. Love you both x

Thanks for the lovely reviews, everyone. It warms my heart and inspires me to write.

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It was a known fact that Malfoys were masters of their emotions; they hid their true feelings and would not cave—even with the slightest bit of provocation. To see Narcissa sobbing like this was new to the Malfoy patriarch. He was there when Druella Black was buried and, even then, Narcissa held her head up high and did not give in to the grief she'd felt.

He cradled the distressed witch in his arms, allowing her to recount what had transpired on her brief excursion to the Muggle world and how it came to be that she was able to bring the babe home. She said the girl's parents were murdered in cold blood by a thief for their vehicle and money. How barbaric, he thought. In between sobs, she also divulged what she had planned to do during that day, how she would integrate herself into the lives of the Muggles in order to gain their trust and, in turn, entrust the omega to her when the young girl was ready to help out Draco.

This, he was aware they would need to talk about in the future but he was oblivious Narcissa had already acted without consulting him about the matter. Omegas were a rare find in the wizarding world—the chances of _it_ being a pure-blood or even a witch were even slimmer. Narcissa loved Draco more than anything else in this world—for their son's conception was nothing short of a miracle. They had tried for a child several times and, with each miscarriage, Lucius saw his wife wither away. Now that they had a son—an _heir_ —he knew Narcissa would do everything in her power to prepare him for what was to come and to ensure his survival.

"Hush now, Cissa. The child's safe and far away now from those heathens. She will be cared for until she comes of age and will have the ability to take care of herself. She will do her duty to Draco, and then be free to do what she wants. We can even give her the Galleons to start a life away from us, and back where she belongs."

"But, Lucius! She's an orphan now. I stood there while her parents were being murdered by a thief. I can't just—" Narcissa cried.

"You can, and you will. She is still young and helpless now, but Sobry can make sure she wants for nothing else. After all, even though her blood and lineage is filthy, she _will_ be saving Draco's life."

Narcissa seemed to have quieted at that. She removed herself from his grasp and stood up, her back turned to him.

"Where are you going?"

"To see the child and make sure she's settled in," Narcissa said, her tone calm and collected.

"Sobry can see to that, there's no reason for you to—"

She turned, her posture stiff, and the defiant look in her eyes made Lucius stop.

"I will go to her, Lucius, and make sure everything has been taken care of. I'll see you later." Her tone brook no argument. Narcissa did not usually show it, but she had that infamous Black temper just like her sisters—a trait that should not be trifled with.

With a swish of her wand she was gone, reappearing in a quaint room in the east wing of the manor.

Unlike Draco's room, with its Slytherin colours and opulence in every corner, this one had muted purples as its colour scheme and was much simpler. There was a wooden cot beside a canopy bed—white drapes lined the edge of the awning, the mattress covered by an amethyst duvet with intricate needlework, depicting a magpie in flight. The former must have been Sobry's doing as Narcissa did not expect to be acquainted with the omega at this early stage. A door leading to the en-suite was positioned by the mahogany built-in wardrobe.

Narcissa had it prepared for when it was time to take the girl home for her task. She was to help Draco out when his rut hit during puberty and then be returned to her parents. Now she would grow up here—in these four walls—with no home to go back to.

No parents to call her own.

Narcissa moved closer to the cot, peering at the baby inside. The child's brows were furrowed in sleep, as if knowing the tragedy that befell her parents. Despite what Lucius claimed as dirty blood—what Narcissa also thought of when she trailed after the Muggle parents earlier—she was beautiful, with brown tufts of downy hair already showing on her head, presumably taking after her mother. Sadness clouded Narcissa's features and she squeezed her eyes shut to avoid replaying the gruesome scene she had witnessed in her mind's eye.

Sensing her presence, the babe began to fuss and whimper. Narcissa bent to bring her closer to her chest and lifted her carefully out of the cot. Cradled in her arms, the child stopped fussing and stared at her, brown eyes curious of the witch handling her.

Now that Narcissa thought about it, she had not heard what her name was or what her parents called her.

"What should I call you, little one?" Narcissa cooed.

The babe's arms flailed, as if excited to hear what she would be named. Narcissa began uttering name after name but, each time, the baby squirmed and fussed, likely disagreeing with her ideas. When she ran out of female names based on constellations, she tried to think of Greek names that would fit the beautiful child.

"Helen was said to be the most beautiful woman in Greek mythology. What do you think?"

The baby scrunched her face up in apparent distaste making Narcissa laugh.

"Alright then, not Helen. Hmm...what else?" She mused out loud. "Well, how about Hermione?"

At this, the baby's eyes lit up with glee—causing a warm fluttering in Narcissa's chest and strengthening her resolve.

This helpless babe had no one else but her and Sobry.

There and then, Narcissa vowed the baby girl would want for nothing; although she was unable to save the Muggle parents, their daughter would be well provided for, grow up healthy and safe, and by the time she was ready, be allowed return to the Muggle world.

"You like that, Hermione? You are a picky little one, aren't you?"

The babe clapped her tiny fists together and let out a funny little noise.

"It's settled then. We're going to call you Hermione from now on."


	3. Innocence

Alpha and beta love to LaBelladoneX and coyg-81. LaBelladoneX's daughter also made an art for this chapter and it's adorable! Thank you Faye!

To the reviewers who asked if Voldemort will make an appearance: he won't. This will remain an AU and Voldemort's existence is not essential to the plot. I hope you enjoy, and I profusely apologise for the delay. Muggle work life and medical treatments got in the way recently.

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Nine-year-old Hermione hummed a happy tune while sorting her newly acquired books on the shelf. Her reading materials were a gift from Lady Malfoy and she loved them very much. Among them was The Secret Garden which had an interesting premise—so similar to her life. She couldn't wait to begin her reading! Excited as she was however, Hermione wanted to wait for her guardian to come home from the weekend ball. It was a ritual of sorts—Lady Malfoy would read to her before bedtime, and then return to her son, Draco. Hermione had heard many great things about him; Lady Malfoy said he also loved to read and he adored Quidditch—a sport where wizards ride a broom and they fly. Draco must be a wonderful boy for Miss Cissa adored him so much. He must be kind like Miss Ci _—Lady Malfoy._

She was still trying to get used to the name as that was _not_ what she called her guardian. Hermione addressed her as Miss Cissa, but letting it slip in front of Lord Malfoy resulted in an hour of scolding, and she did not want to get into trouble, or hear his hurtful words, again.

He was absolutely terrifying when he was mad; she had seen what happened to Dobby's blistered hands when he had missed polishing the silverware, or Noopy's scabbed ears when he brought the wrong decanter.

Hermione felt bad for the elves because, in an attempt to appease their master, they would punish themselves.

Lord Malfoy was rather cruel to everyone—so different from Miss Ci— _no, that's Lady Malfoy to you, Muggle girl._

She frowned as she recalled Lord Malfoy's words, how it had made her chest hurt and eyes sting.

 _Foul._

 _Filthy Muggle._

At a very young age, Hermione was told she had lost her parents in a car accident and that Lady Malfoy had taken her home. They were Muggles according to Lord Malfoy — people with no magic and useless in the world they live in.

She had always been fascinated with magic and spells. Sobry usually helped tidy up Hermione's room with just a flick of her fingers. The elves used magic for cooking and cleaning and Lady Malfoy had shown her really nice tricks. It was amazing! She wished that she was like them—magical and useful.

Draco Lucius Malfoy flicked the icing that covered his cake and the white substance dropped straight onto little Pansy Parkinson's perfectly coiffed hair. Noticing this, the young witch let out a nasty shriek that made his ears ring. The ensuing laughter from the rest of the Pureblood children with them brought tears to the little girl's eyes. Pansy stood up from her chair and ran away from them, most likely off to tell his parents about what he'd just done.

"You know you're going to get in trouble for that, Draco," Theodore Nott said, raising an eyebrow when Draco just shrugged and continued eating the rest of his untouched cake, nary a care for what he did to his playmate.

"She was annoying! Kept going on about how we'll get married someday. I don't want to get married to _that_ girl, she's loud and always wearing pink frilly gowns. Girls are awful."

" _My_ mother said, as heirs to our families, we _will_ have to marry when we're older. Pansy might be your wife someday," Theo continued to tease.

Draco felt queasy as if he was going to throw up. No, he did not want Pansy. She felt wrong and just smelled like those pink flowers that Mrs. Parkinson loved—cloying and nasty.

"I'm going to marry a pure-blood one day, but not Pansy. _My_ wife would be like Mother—sweet with nice manners. And she will love to read books with me. Pansy hates reading. Oh, and she has to smell ni—"

"Draco." Lucius Malfoy's commanding voice stopped whatever Draco was about to say and the young boy visibly gulped. He did not hear that tone often but he knew what it meant—Father was not happy about something and he was in for a lot of scolding.

"Is it true that you threw icing on Ms. Parkinson's hair?" His father asked.

"But, Father, she—"

"I don't want to hear any excuses, Draco. A pure-blood maintains proper decorum at all times, and treats a lady properly. Apologise to Ms. Parkinson now." Lucius Malfoy replied, more firmly this time.

Draco turned to Pansy, his eyes defiant but his stance subdued. The girl's face lit up with glee at this public reprimand, which annoyed him even more. He badly wanted to tug on her hair, but his father's word was law and he had no choice _but_ to comply. So, in a solemn voice, he said he was sorry and he wouldn't do it again.

He would make sure to find a way to get back at her in the future.

They left Nott Manor a few minutes later, with Draco still in a foul mood over what had happened. He just wanted to get home and play with his Quidditch action figures. The ball was a bore and, even though he loved spending time with Theo and his other friends, Pansy and the rest of the girls their age always turned it into a girly fanfare.

He bid his parents goodnight. His mother offered to read him a story—she usually would before Draco slept as it was something he enjoyed. But what happened at Nott Manor killed the mood, so he declined. Draco would rather be alone and sulk. Instead of walking to the master bedroom, his mother Apparated—probably to visit her ward.

Draco knew she had adopted a young girl by the name of Hermione. They'd never met, but he felt like he knew her just by listening to his mother prattle on about the girl's love for books, general curiosity and kindness. The Malfoy heir wanted to meet her but his father was adamant that Draco stayed out of the Muggle girl's way until the right time—when that would happen, he still didn't father had also implied that Hermione couldn't possibly be that interesting, considering she was a Muggle—all filthy and without magic.

Deciding he'd had enough thinking about the girl, Draco picked up the book on his bedside table; The Tales of Beedle the Bard should keep his thoughts away from her, not to mention the memory of Pansy's smug face when he was being scolded by his father.

Hermione was just about to exit the en-suite when she heard a distinct pop. She hurried her pace and saw Lady Malfoy already seated on her bed, Hermione's new book held by her guardian's dainty fingers.

She was mere inches away from Lady Malfoy, prepared to give the older woman a peck on the cheek when she recalled Lord Malfoy's words. Hesitantly, Hermione stepped away and opted to sit beside her instead.

"Is something the matter?" Lady Malfoy prompted the little girl gently.

Hermione shook her head and pursed her lips. It was difficult to lie to this woman—someone who cared for her, treated her with kindness as if Hermione were her own. But Hermione didn't want to cause any trouble, and it would surely be bothersome for her to tell on Lord Malfoy.

"You can tell me anything, child," Lady Malfoy urged. "Anything at all."

Hermione suddenly remembered something that stood out during her conversation with the Lord of the Manor. She knew about Muggles and magic but had never come across _this_ word.

"Lady Malfoy," Hermione started tentatively. "What's an Omega?"


	4. Change

**Hello, lovely readers of That Which Binds Us! I apologise that it's been a while since I came out with an update - life has been exceedingly busy as of late. This would be the last upload for the month and the next one might not be up until November. I have a Lean Six Sigma project that I need to finish and after that, a bunch of people to train this October. Rest assured that the story is just on hold and I will get back to it as soon as I can - it's also quite possible that if the muse strikes out of nowhere, there will be chapters in between.**

 **Alpha and beta love to my friends and partners in crime, coyg** **-81 and LaBelladoneX! I'll never get tired of thanking you both for all your help on this story. You guys are amazing!**

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" _Lady Malfoy… what's an Omega?"_

It took a little while for Hermione's guardian to answer, as if she was weighing her options and thinking about what to say.

"Was it Lucius who told you about this?" Lady Malfoy asked instead.

Hermione avoided Narcissa's penetrating gaze. Deciding that lying would, at this point, be futile the little girl nodded.

"I was waiting for you to come of age before I said anything, but I guess this can't be helped."

Hermione looked up, eagerly awaiting for Lady Malfoy to say more.

"The wizarding world is comprised of Alphas, Betas and Omegas, Hermione. Betas — like myself and Lucius — have no physical markings of what we are. Alphas and Omegas, on the other hand, have special attributes."

"Special attributes? Like, magic?" Hermione asked with a tinge of excitement.

"Sometimes an Alpha or an Omega will have magic, but sometimes they won't."

Hermione's shoulders slumped, her disappointment palpable. Suddenly, soft and warm hands held her own and she looked up to see Lady Malfoy's fond gaze directed at her.

"Hermione — child, your lack of magic does not make you less special in my eyes. Your intelligence and avid curiosity about the world endeared you to me. You are like a shining beacon of hope — you and my little Draco have brought me contentment and happiness since you both came into my life. One day, when you're old enough to do what you want, there will be great things waiting for you."

Hermione couldn't help it; with tear-filled eyes, she tugged Narcissa Malfoy's robes and enveloped her guardian in a hug, hoping to convey how thankful she was for everything. The little girl wanted her Miss Cissa to feel that, even though Hermione had lost her real mother in an accident she wasn't old enough to remember, she knew the love and embrace of one.

When Narcissa's arms loosened a little, Hermione sat back, eyes widening with increasing curiosity. She asked again, "So, Omegas?"

The loud crack of Apparition signalled his wife's return to their quarters. Narcissa approached Lucius Malfoy in a few quick strides, her heavy footsteps — unusual for his gentle wife — diverting his attention from the documents he was perusing.

"Cissa, has your son apologised for—" his words were cut off when he saw the fire in Narcissa's eyes, her calm exterior belying the anger she seemed to be holding inside.

"How dare you frighten a little girl!"

Lucius was taken aback by the vehemence of her tone and shocked that the filthy child actually had the courage to breathe a word of their short _conversation._

"What did the Muggle child tell you that vexes you so? You shouldn't believe a word she says, my love, their ilk are known to do horrendous things. Liars, they all are—" Lucius reached for his wife's hand, only for her to shrug him off.

"She told me nothing, Lucius. But her actions and her sudden aloofness is enough for me to know that you broke your promise!" The calm demeanour vanished, Narcissa's magic crackled, causing a faint spark to shoot out from the end her sleek wand. "She's a child, Lucius! And you promised that, if I kept her from meeting Draco for the better part of their childhood, you would not mistreat her in any way!"

"And I did just that!. Surely you wouldn't believe the words of a Muggle girl?" Lucius shook his head in disbelief.

"I've raised that Muggle girl since she was barely a year old — I know her, Lucius! I trust her. How dare you bring up something so sensitive as her biological designation? She's nine! I had to explain it to her as best as I could because of your carelessness. You've shown anger towards that helpless child time and again. I'm sure you're _more_ than capable of hurting her!" Narcissa's chest heaved from the effort of controlling her temper — her magic. "If you ever try to cause her pain in any way — Merlin help me — you will regret it!"

 **2 years later**

Hermione flipped through the book that she was reading — _Omegas: Biology and Mating Habits_. She had specifically requested to read more about this subject ever since that fateful night two years ago, and Miss Cissa _finally_ allowed her to have some reading material — just not pages three hundred and ninety-four to five hundred, she'd said. They were to be read when she was older; little ladies like her were far too young to read _those_ pages.

Truth be told, some of the contents in this particular book had made Hermione blush; she could remember some alright but not _in great detail._ She recalled the night Miss Cissa answered her question; her guardian did not stutter but the tightening of her jaw and obvious discomfort was evident when she provided the details. Omegas, according to Miss Cissa, were the submissive complements to Alphas. They were biologically drawn to one another and, in the wizarding world, an Omega was revered — _special_ — as they were essential for the survival of an Alpha.

Like Draco.

Hermione recalled how Miss Cissa's eyes misted over when the subject of Draco's survival was brought to the conversation. Her guardian held Hermione's hand and, in an action she'd never expected, kneeled in supplication.

" _When the time comes that he needs an Omega by his side — Hermione, will you take care of Draco? I know this is a big thing to ask of you but I will do anything, please, help me save my son," Narcissa Malfoy begged._

The love of a mother far outweighed the cunning of a Slytherin.

 _Hermione nodded in earnest, her heart envious at the evident love her guardian had for her son. Draco was so lucky to have Miss Cissa as a mother and, despite the fact that Hermione was an outsider in this family, she never once felt like that under Narcissa's care. "I'll help him, Miss. I'll make sure you won't lose him. I swear it."_

 _The little girl thought of a knight in shining armour, protecting his princess. Then she tried not to giggle at the idea of herself in a big metal suit on a horse, saving a little boy she'd yet to meet._

The promise she'd made two years ago was something Hermione planned to honour; it was _nothing_ compared to everything that Miss Cissa had given her. By and large, when Draco's _rut_ was over, Hermione would be given free rein to explore the outside world and her Muggle heritage.

For now, she just had to prepare herself for what was to come in the next couple of years.

Draco Malfoy was bored. He had expected to have a bit of fun since he'd come home from Hogwarts for Christmas hols but his parents were nowhere to be seen — probably still preoccupied with preparations for the upcoming Malfoy Yule Ball. These events usually bored him too; the only good thing that would come out of it was his friends would stay for a couple of days, but they wouldn't be arriving for another fortnight. He was anxious to play Quidditch with them and get himself ready for tryouts next year. Not that he doubted his capabilities — _no_ — Draco was sure he would make it. _Malfoys are destined for greatness,_ Father said, and Father was always right. With Draco's lithe form and swift flying, he was surely cutout as a seeker. Ah, he couldn't wait until next year!

But first, Draco needed a cure for this restlessness so a trip to the library was in order. Surely there would be something in there to take his mind off things for the time being. He trudged through the halls, lingering at the long windows he passed to get a glimpse of the front porch. Christmas, albeit the coldest time of the year, was always a sight to behold — acres of land covered in pristine white snow.

When he opened the doors to the library, the overwhelming scent of books assailed Draco's nostrils; he loved it here. The Hogwarts library — with its grandeur and countless amount of books — couldn't compare to the Malfoy's plethora of centuries-old tomes. With sure steps, he located the Quidditch book he wanted to get lost in for the rest of the evening and rounded the corner, preparing to go back where he came from when he caught a whiff of something _sweet_. Something _right._

 _Honeysuckle. Jasmine. Spring rain._

Draco's feet moved of their own accord, carrying him to where the intoxicating scent was. It brought him to an alcove deep within the library, a place where he often lounged when he wanted to read in peace. There, in his favourite wingback facing the large windows, sat a girl with a bushy chestnut mane quietly reading. Her eyes were darting left and right, devouring the knowledge at her fingertips.

 _Hermione._

She was exactly how his mother had described her — eyes alight in wonder and curiosity with every turn of the page. And that _scent._ Draco wanted to bask in the fragrance, keep her close to him as much as possible. He could hug her for all eternity and feel content with—

 _Inferior blood. Filth! Your mother harbours a foul Muggle girl in this house, Draco. You should never allow yourself to be in close proximity to that_ thing _ **.**_ _It's only your mother's kindness and your need as an Alpha that she's here. Do not mistake it for anything else._

His father's words, deeply ingrained in his mind, shook Draco from the trance he was seemingly entrenched in. Incensed that he had suddenly forgotten Lucius's teachings because of a mere slip of a girl, he strode towards where she sat, the noise of his heavy footfalls finally alerting her to his presence.

Hermione finally looked up, wide brown eyes staring at him with uncertainty. Then, her expression changed to excitement as she scrambled to close the book and stand up. She closed the distance between them and held out her hand for him to shake.

"Hi, I'm Hermione!" The girl's cheerful voice rang loudly in the alcove. "Oh, you must be Draco! Miss Cissa has told me all about you, of course."

Draco gazed at her outstretched hand. He was tempted to take it and envelope her in his arms, but his father's voice in his head was louder and more insistent.

He slapped Hermione's hand and, in his best imitation of Lucius's haughty voice, he said, "Filthy Muggles do not deserve a handshake from pure-bloods like me."

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 **There's more to come. I promise I'll be back! I really love writing this story and sharing it with you.** **Thank you for the reviews, follows and favourites, they inspire me to write and do better each time.**


	5. Mageía

**I sincerely apologise to everyone who has been following this story. I thought that after my training classes, I'd have an ample time to update. Shit has hit the fan and I'm currently neck deep in handling family problems — please bear with me. I will update this story whenever I can and will never abandon it.**

 **LaBelladoneX and** **coyg-81, I can't thank you both enough for your help with this story. Love you both!**

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Hermione felt cold, like shards of ice were running through her veins and she had to blink back the tears in her eyes. The Lord of the Manor's words flashed in her mind and she was reminded of the searing pain in her heart the first time she had heard her heritage being spoken about with such indignation.

" _Foul!"_

" _Filthy Muggle!"_

" _You're an abomination! Be thankful that Narcissa cares a lot about Draco or you'll be nowhere near this family."_

All this time she thought, when she would meet Draco, he would be like his mother. Kind and gentle — like a friend.

" _Filthy Muggles do not deserve a handshake from pure-bloods like me."_

She was wrong.

He was no different from his father who thought that girls like her did not deserve to breathe the same air he did — that she was nothing but mere dirt under his boots.

An emotion she had felt once — when Lucius Malfoy made disparaging remarks about her heritage and parents — clawed its way to the surface of her being.

It felt like fire in her chest, thawing the icy feeling brought about by Draco Malfoy's words. It was an inferno raging from deep within, and like branches caught in the flames, Hermione felt herself snap.

Draco Malfoy always did what he wanted because according to his father, it was the Malfoy way. He could do _everything_ except defy his parent's words. Regret and remorse weren't that high up in his vocabulary but, when he saw the tears in Hermione's eyes, he felt the sudden need to reverse time and take back what he had said if it would remove the pain from those sad brown eyes.

But those same expressive eyes suddenly held a steel of determination, darkening like pools of chocolate as sadness morphed to unbridled fury.

Fear gripped him like never before as he saw her aura emanate an ethereal glow until she was _shimmering_ with unrestrained magic.

It was beautiful.

It was impossible!

But — _how_ —

He was just about to voice his confusion when an unseen force held him rooted on the spot, his limbs failing to follow what his mind wanted to do. Draco tried moving his arms and fingers to no avail. His eyes widened marginally when he felt his feet being lifted from the ground and then the world was suddenly upside down. He screamed at the top of his lungs as he was righted back, only to be flipped over when he relaxed his stance.

"Stop! Make it stop!" He shouted when he was once again in an upright position and now at Hermione's level.

"What's going on here?" Lucius Malfoy's aristocratic voice could be heard from the end of the aisle where they were standing.

This seemed to have broken Hermione's concentration as Draco suddenly dropped to the floor, moaning and looking at the Malfoy patriarch.

"Father, it's her! She's flipped me upside down! Did you see how this Muggle _filth_ treated me?" Draco cried.

"You mean to tell me that this was all the Muggle's doing that you were lifted into thin air and flipped around like some bloody house-elf?" Lucius turned his scrutinising gaze to Hermione and the latter flinched and backed away.

"I… didn't mean to. It just… I felt warm and then all of a sudden Draco's feet were no longer on the ground and I'm just so angry that I—" Hermione gasped when she realised where her thoughts were headed. She wanted to hurt Lady Malfoy's son because he was being mean and cruel. How could she even think that way after all her guardian had done for her?

"I-I'm sorry. I need to—" Hermione ran.

She ran as fast as her feet could carry her out of the library and back to the safety of her room, where she'd be far away from the cruel father and son. It was stupid to think that everyone could be like Miss Cissa who was kind and gentle — who would treat her like she was special, as if Hermione was her own daughter. _Stupid_.

 _Worthless, filthy Muggle._

Hermione reached her room, opening the door and closing it none too gently. She couldn't see a thing from all the tears in her eyes but they wouldn't stop flowing, no matter how much she wiped them off. It _hurt_ and she wanted _him_ to hurt too.

How did that happen? Had she accidentally opened something in the library that had caused the accident? What was the warmth that emanated from the centre of her being to the tips of her fingers? Was it… magic? She needed to talk to Miss Cissa.

Draco refused to stand up and moaned about how he had been carelessly treated, to which Lucius Malfoy just raised his eyebrow.

"Stand up, Draco. Don't make me come and get you. You're a wizard — bested by a girl and a Muggle, no less," Lucius Malfoy sneered.

Embarrassed at being scolded, Draco slowly stood up with a small limp and faced his father but not without a scowl on his pointy face.

"But you told me she's a Muggle, Father. How was she able to do that? Aren't Muggles incapable of doing magic?" Curiosity tinged Draco's voice.

The young Malfoy was confused by what had happened. Aside from being bewildered with his reactions to her close proximity, he did not understand how a Muggle like her could have done what she did to a wizard like him. Were his parents mistaken about Hermione's parentage? Could it be that she was like him too and was just taken from her real birth parents? It was too much for Draco to take in. Coupled with being flipped upside down several times, he could feel a headache coming on. He was about to excuse himself from his father's presence when Lucius beat him to it. He was ordered to leave the library, stay in his quarters and wait until he would be summoned once the guests arrived.

Draco turned to leave, missing the peculiar look on his father's face.

Narcissa Malfoy was finishing the final touch-ups to her hair when Lucius entered the room. He seemed to be deep in thought as he had not acknowledged her at all, heading straight to his firewhisky decanter. As he poured a generous amount in his glass, his eyes raked all over Narcissa's form which confused the witch.

"You're still as beautiful as ever, dear wife," Lucius spoke in that seductive voice of his that Narcissa rarely heard from him. He approached her like a predator on the hunt for his prey, his hand clutching her shoulder. "Childbirth has not waned your beauty. You've been good at keeping it all in, _hiding_ everything in plain sight, haven't you, Cissa?"

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Curious thing, that. I was in the library earlier checking some documents when I heard a commotion in Draco's favourite spot." He commented.

"Is he—"

"Oh, don't worry, your son is alright. Although I have to say he must still be quite shaken with the way your ward's magic flipped him up and down."

And there it was — her tell.

The slight twitch in her left eye did not go unnoticed to Lucius.

Narcissa Malfoy had always been cool and calculating; an outsider would never be able to determine her feelings. Years of pure-blood upbringing had honed this definite trait. As her husband, however, he was privy to the times when her mask would slip.

"How long have you known, Cissa?" His grip on her shoulder tightened.

"Since she was six. I was there during her first display of accidental magic." Her facial expression remained passive but there was a slight hitch in her voice.

"And you deigned to keep this from me? You know what it means to have an Omega with magic — what it could bring to Draco, and yet you were willing to keep it!" Lucius's voice was rising, his anger palpable with every word. "You wanted to hide this and let her go when she comes of age to the Muggle world. Why?"

"She is her own person, Lucius!" Narcissa shook his hand away from its tight grip. "I will never allow you to force her into being a broodmare just so she could provide witches and wizards for our son! She's a _Mudblood_ , you said it yourself. Why would you want to sully the Malfoy line with her blood?"

"Oh, you and I both know why, Narcissa." The gleam in his eyes was unmistakable, he was planning something that did not bode well for her ward. "A Malfoy always gets what they want and we always want the best.

* * *

 **The definite time when students receive their Hogwarts letter is a bit complicated and even JK has confusing thoughts as evidenced by an ****article in hp-lexicon (link on the Ao3 version). Therefore, I've taken liberties on their age gap initially placed in the author's note of chapter one — when I mentioned Draco is older than Hermione in this fanfiction resulting in the receipt of her Hogwarts letter at a later date.**


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